Jack Off
by Katu-Bunny
Summary: Rated PG-13, just in case. Pairing: Jackhimself.


Jack shut the door behind him as he entered his quarters. He shut his eyes and leaned against the door. The first mate was back and safe, and that was grand...but it still stood true that he couldn't touch her the way he wanted to. And he really wanted to. It had been ages...maybe three days! He wrung his hands like an addict.  
  
He'd mentally gone through the list of women off-duty, and there were only three, of now. Anamaria, Dabria, and Sam, the cook. Not exactly his top choices. Not that he wouldn't mind...but Sam wasn't interested, Anamaria was somewhat attatched, and also probably not interested, and Dabria was his daughter. He'd toyed with the idea of the lattermost, but he decided after a moment that though he wasn't quite sure what "daughter" meant to him, it DID mean "woman you do not sleep with"..."Unless you didn't know better and you were in Spain and drunk and she started it," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Of course, there WERE males off-duty...Gibbs wasn't busy, but the very idea made him recoil slightly and smack his mouth to rid it of the imaginary taste. Cotton, too, wasn't doing much, and Jack very much hoped that he would stay that way...euch. Why weren't male pirates more pretty? Oh, of course Will was off-duty, and that idea had occupied him for a full five minutes, before he'd decided it would be a hard seduction to pull off.  
  
So here he was in his cabin, about to do something he hadn't done in months, at least. Probably longer. Maybe even a year. He wondered if he remembered how. Well, one way to find out.  
  
He lay on his back and settled into his pillows. Feeling slightly foolish, he reached down for his laces and untied them. He was grateful, briefly, that his pants were front-lacing instead of back-lacing. Back-lacing was for young lads, usually cabin boys. And as Jack thought back to his days as a cabin boy, it made sense. To the captain's advantage, anyway. Of course, Jack had no such luxury, once the first mate was out of commission. No cabin boys on the Pearl.  
  
Wait...why were there no cabin boys? Why didn't HE have cabin boys? He stood up in a righteous anger and exited his room, pants still unlaced but nothing else out of order. He stormed down the hallway and threw open the first door he found.  
  
"WHY DON' I 'AVE ANY CABIN BOYS?!" he demanded, frightening the occupants something awful. Ana looked up, completely undressed and on top of Hugh, and glared at him. Hugh was trying to hide his face, but Ana had no shame.  
  
"Jack, can we talk abou' this later?" she asked, with more than a small amount of annoyance in her tone. Jack seemed to finally notice what he'd barged in on.  
  
"Oh...aye. We'll talk later. Take yer time," he added, just before the door shut. Well, that was awkward. He gingerly made his way back to his room and looked down at himself. "C'mon, lad, let's 'ave a go, eh?"  
  
He was just about to grab himself when he realised something. He turned tail and walked back to Ana's room. He flung open the door again. "Hugh!" he cried, "Ye're s'posed te be on duty!"  
  
Ana sighed audibly and turned slightly to face Jack, her tanned breasts bouncing in a way that brought Jack's eyes along with. "Jack, d'ye mind? It won' take too much longer if ye'd jus' leave us be."  
  
"No, nay, dammit!" Jack said, frowning, "If I can' 'ave sex, no one can!"  
  
Despite herself, Ana laughed. She leaned forward and kissed Hugh, and continued rocking her hips back and forth. Hugh didn't seem quite so sanguine about the idea, but since Ana was on top, he had little choice in the matter.  
  
"I said stop!" Jack cried. Ana ignored him. He hated when she did that. In a fit of rage, he rushed into the room and grabbed Ana by the hips and dragged her off of Hugh. This was a mistake. SLAP.  
  
"Ow, ow, sorry!"  
  
SLAP.  
  
"Ow, oi, okay! I'm leaving! Ow, stop 'ittin' me! Ow!"  
  
SLAM. Jack leaned against the door, as if afraid Ana would follow him out into the hallway. He could hear her laughing, and then a hushed conversation with Hugh. At this point, Jack was obliged to do some thinking. Why was he so eager to rush back and stop Ana and Hugh for a ridiculous reason? Especially when he knew she'd hit him?  
  
Just then, he heard his annoyingly ever-sensible first mate's voice in his head. "Well, maybe ye're afraid of takin' matters inte yer own 'ands, as it were." What? Him? Jack Sparrow, afraid of masturbation? Preposterous! Disgustingly untrue! He'd prove it!  
  
He rushed into his room, bound and determined to prove the theory wrong. He slammed the door behind him and threw himself into his bed in a flurry of hair and cloth, as if ready to rape himself, if neccessary.  
  
"Good goin', Jack. Th' one person ye 'AVE te rape, an' it's yerself." There was that damned voice again. She probably wasn't even conscious, and she was teasing him.  
  
He lay down and looked at his crotch. The laces were still undone. All he had to do was reach down and grab it. Just touch it, and then he'd be able to go through with it. His hand moved slowly lower, stiffened into a strange position. It moved jerkily, as if fighting through a current. Just a little bit closer...Past the navel... Okay. Hand on the laces. Now just reach in, and...  
  
Oh, fuck it. Shagging Will would be easier than this.  
  
And, on that note...the door shut for the last time that night, keeping in the strange and laughable secret Jack Sparrow had just discovered about himself.  
  
Fin. 


End file.
